252 THE HUNTING FIELD 



improvement less apparent, owing to the sudden transition 

 from a beaten horse to a fresh one. Indeed, Mr. Milksop, like 

 many young gentlemen riding on the top of the morning, went 

 a good deal upon price. He thought if he gave a good lot of 

 money, he was sure to get a good horse, a problem not quite so 

 apparent to those who have made a long journey in old Father 

 Time's coach. The nag he was on was out of Jordan's stud, a 

 fair hack hunter when in the superior wind peculiar to the class, 

 but who had got rather pursey from a repletion of oats and 

 deficiency of work since he entered our friend's (if he will allow 

 us to call him so) service. 



Yonder lie goes I cried the Squire, pointing with his whip to 

 where reynard was stealing over a gently swelling hill in the 

 distance. Yonder lie goes ! repeated he, urging his horse on to 

 the pack. The blood of old Furrier was in the ascendant, and 

 the staunch pack clustered like bees — a sheet would have 

 covered the whole. The fox gains the hedge-row, and is for 

 a moment screened from view — another second, and he creeps 

 through again, hearing hounds on the same side. Ah ! it's all 

 over with him. The hounds divide, and there's no escape. 

 Whoo whoop ! Vengeance snaps him ! 



A fox is one of the few animals whose death never draws 

 forth compassion. 



" Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare,'' 

 wrote Somerville, and hundreds will echo the sentiment who 

 never feel a pang of compunction for poor reynard. The fact is, 

 he is a carnivorous dog, and dies game. The scream of the 

 hare is piteous in the extreme. Our fox will not excite any 

 more pity, we dare say, from the fact of our having killed 

 him tivice. 



"A southerly wind and a cloudy sky" used to be the 

 huntsman of old's delight, but we confess we have no objection 

 to sun. We don't get so much of it in England that we can 

 afford to shut it out even for hunting. Sun adds cheerful 



